"What does Webster say about soul"
And can only some of us hear an elephant weeping
Or do the blues flow through all creeds
A lifeblood of collective scars and memories
That spreads famine for a buried cause.
I've been digging through this dirt for 23 years
And when I come across water that runs and splits
Into fingers of a hand bending for a hopeful companion
My nature is plucked and echoed
As a string on a banjo vibrates and glides
A wave on a hot and aurally conducive night.